How can I ever trust again after so many lies?

Throughout my married life, I always said if my husband had an affair that would be it. But when it slaps you in the face, as it did after eight years of marriage, there is a whole picture to consider - most importantly your children.

Then there's friends, family and a life that you have built together, while you were totally in love and marriage was for ever.

I wrote out all the pros and cons before making a final decision to stay. I was devastated and my heart felt it had been ripped out - although I was told: 'Get over it - it's in the past.'

Rebuilding: Can a woman betrayed by her husband learn to trust again?

My wonderful, insular bubble had burst. But after a few years, I relaxed again, thinking and hoping that after the pain he had put me through the first time, he would never do it again.

Never say never! My husband's affair had been with our Polish au pair, 16 years his junior.

She realised that I was not going to leave easily, and pushed her attentions onto my husband's single cousin whom she then married (therefore she now has the same married name as me). Eight years later, my husband restarted his relationship with this woman. It was lie after lie after lie, until I had proof in black and white, and more lies followed even then.

Needless to say, this time I did ask him to leave. If only that was the end of it. It had taken me eight years to realise I could not live with him any longer because when the trust is gone in a relationship it cannot be rebuilt easily.

I am now two years into the divorce and with dozens of court appearances behind us, I would not wish this on my worst enemy. The floodgates open to all that has been going on behind your back - there is not a truer saying than the wife is always the last to know.

It is nice to see the whole picture at last, but it does make you question everything that has been said to you over your married life together.

With no end in sight, at the moment my life is in limbo. My children were - and are - my first and only concern. I joke to my friends that I have become a re-born virgin.

The point is how will I ever trust again? I'm 43, we were married for 16 years, and now I have a brick wall in front of me and do not know how to knock it down. It is a strange place to be. How do I move on?

Deborah

You are asking a question at the heart of human experience: how do I cope with loss? At the end of a marriage we do feel bereaved and the sense of loss drives you back in time, right to the beginning, since everything is called into question, even the happiest times.

At this stage I think I should answer your simple question about moving on with a simple answer.

Since the divorce is so traumatic, do not expect to move on. Not yet. Thinking that you should move on places another burden on you, which you don't need. Knocking down a wall requires far too much sweat.

Instead of glib prescriptions for 'moving on', I want you to contemplate that brick wall. Solid, eh? But you know, the laws of quantum physics tell us that nothing is solid, everything is constantly moving and changing. Strangely, in the same way, the laws of poetry ask us to see beauty and possibility in all things - yes, even the worst. Even a brick wall.

Just read these two lines from a poem/song by Leonard Cohen a couple of times before we go on:

There is a crack, a crack in everything.

That's how the light gets in.

If you think of a crack in a structure, it's a sign of weakness. A cracked wall will be susceptible to frost. A cracked Ming vase has lost value. Many marriages have a fatal flaw, a crack which isn't visible at the beginning, but which means the couple will not survive. The roots will probably be in the childhood of one or other partner and the motives often go beyond the purely sexual.

A good, straightforward book on these matters is After The Affair: How To Build Trust and Love Again (by Julia Cole with Relate, published by Vermilion) which I recommend to anybody who has endured an experience like yours.

But what about Cohen's 'crack' - which lets in the light? If you were in a pitch-black room, the finest crack or tiniest chink in the outer wall would admit a fine ray of light to relieve the darkness. You wouldn't have noticed the chink until the terrible, total gloom made it visible.

Cohen is suggesting that this is indeed a way to view misfortune. Nothing is perfect, we have to accept that. It goes with being human and mortal.

Yet it is through coping with imperfection that we learn and grow. It is how we respond to our pain that makes all the difference. I'd like you to see that truth as what your brick wall is telling you.

That the man you fell in love with, married, and forgave once should so deceive you is good grounds for anger, disillusion and mistrust. But it is how you process those feelings that will make all the difference.

At the moment your self-esteem is very low, isn't it? It's not just that you think you will never trust another man again, it is that you doubt any man would love you - the rejected and deceived one.

From my perspective you were brave and mature when you decided (that first time) that 'the whole picture' of the marriage was more important than a principle. This was wise, not (as some might think) foolish. But when he cheated again, you were equally brave, mature and wise to call time.

So I would like you to start seeing yourself as strong, rather than a victim. That will help you remove just one brick from that wall, and let through a whole beam of sunlight.

Your strength (for now) consists in holding things together for those children and devoting yourself to them. Think about how well you have done this, and (in realising what that says about you) remove another brick.

Now you can peep through and see the view. Believe me when I tell you that the path you see stretching ahead belongs to you, though you cannot possibly know where it will lead or who you will meet along the way.

Soon you will step forward and find that the wall melts away - having done its job. Perhaps, you see, it was protecting you from too many choices before you were ready to take them. 'Moving on' happens when you realise that the person you need to trust is yourself.

Uncertain: Is it better to question a baby's paternity now or let him grow up with a secret? (posed by models)

My son doesn't know if this baby is his

Dear Bel,

Do you think a child deserves to know his true parentage, or should some things remain a secret? My son is 20 years old, a soldier posted in Germany. On leave, he met an old girlfriend and they went out, although she was living with another man at the time. After a couple of weeks, she wrote to tell him she was pregnant with his child.

By May they were married, much to my dismay. By July she had left him, saying the baby was the other guy's. He was heartbroken, but just as he was getting over it she came back and a baby boy was born in Germany in December. My son loves this child, convinced the baby is his, but I don't believe it. He's been infatuated with this girl for three years.

They split up twice because of her cheating. She has a very troubled past. I don't think she's the right girl for my son, but I keep it hidden as I know he loves her. I truly want them to be happy, although I think she will leave him again one day. I can't see her waiting for him when he goes to Afghanistan later this year. Our family believes he should have a DNA test.

Also, the other man wants to know if he is the father. I've said we will accept this child into our hearts, but I want to know if I'm a grandmother. I've offered to pay for DNA testing.

What would you do? I really wish them luck and happiness despite my many misgivings, but surely it's better to know the truth and deal with that, rather than a secret coming out when the boy is a teenager?

Rose

This is a sorry story; any mother would feel as you do, given this couple's history. I'm most worried about the child, as it doesn't sound as if this girl is capable of being a good mother, let alone a loving wife.

Of course she might come good, but from details in your uncut letter, I doubt it.

I agree that there should be a DNA test; on the other hand, you can't force it on your son. It seems you should first get in touch with the welfare officer of his unit. His (or her) job is to look after the men and should be alerted to this situation.

After all, when your boy is in Afghanistan this woman could empty their bank account and skip. It happens, and the welfare officer has to pick up the pieces.

You are doing the right thing by trying hard to wish them well, knowing that you must not push him away by letting him know your feelings about his wife.

Like you, I suspect he'll be hurt again and need all the support his family can offer. I also think that in the end he will agree that a paternity test is absolutely necessary, not just for his own peace of mind but also (as you say) as a matter of justice to the child.

Of course men can love children who are not their own, but not if a wicked lie has been perpetrated. Poor him, and poor little baby.

And finally: Glimpsing the truth behind a face...

When a family member points a camera, do you say 'Oh no, I hate pictures of myself'?

Snapshots that catch the wrong grimace can be depressing. But what new parent or grandparent can resist showing snaps of the precious newborn or cute toddler? For me, there's nothing more inspiring, touching, entertaining than the human face, with all its flaws.

That's why my favourite museum in all England is the National Portrait Gallery, just a step from Trafalgar Square. The other night, we went to a big fundraising 'do' there, which included the brand new exhibition of Constable portraits. Of course, it's fun to dress up - but the whole reason for the splendid evening was even more exciting.

I didn't know the NPG was one of the first museums in the country to create an Education Department (40 years ago), offering special visits for schools.

Now every year they welcome more than 70,000 school and college students and work with varied communities, not just in London, but all around the country. They take artists into hospitals to work with sick children - and so much more. But, of course, it all costs.

The NPG's programme brings in young people who've never set foot in a museum - and indeed, 'failing' kids who've never even seen the West End. Because my own childhood was enhanced by Liverpool's Walker Art Gallery, I think we should be proud of our national treasure house of museums and galleries and use them. After all, they're ours.

So what do the visiting kids see at the NPG? Inspiring and fascinating portraits of men and women who have shaped our culture, from the earliest times to the present day. This is a thrilling way to learn some history - as well as pride.

They discover how pictures are made and have a go themselves. They learn photography, too. Their views are listened to. And in making their own portraits they think about who they are - just as you look at a portrait of an admired person and glimpse the truth behind the face.

I love the fact that all this is going on, and that by making merry we could help raise a goodly sum for the valuable - and exciting - work. (see www.npg.org.uk)